Virginia Henley (20 page)

Marcus turned to gaze at her naked splendor. “Why don’t you put on those fur leggings? I can’t think of anything more erotic than making love to you with your legs clad in far.” His suggestion appealed to the vixen inside her. Every time Marcus made love to her, Diana gained power over him, but a curious thing was happening to her heart. She had set out to deliberately enslave him, but somehow she had fallen in love with the magnificent Roman
and relished the male-female game of domination and submission so much that she did not wish to rule him. She wanted him exactly as he was. So long as his was the power, hers was the glory!

They dined abed, and Diana decided that since Marcus had enjoyed such erotic pleasure from the leggings, she would keep them on all night. When they were finally replete from indulging in all their favorite things, they slept curled as they had the night before with Diana facedown on top of him.

When she awoke at dawn, he was gone, but she stretched sensually in the big bed, immediately aware that he had left her two things. While she still slept, he had slipped his gold coin over her head and he had also left her covered with his virile male scent.

Diana and Nola decided to go into Aquae Sulis to shop. They were gone all morning, and when they returned, their litter was filled to overflowing with Diana’s purchases. She bought perfume, makeup, a board game with ivory counters, some red Samian pottery, and a supply of wooden writing tablets and a stylus.

The leather riding pants she had ordered were finished and waiting for her when she returned, so Diana decided to wear them when she visited Marcus in the afternoon.

She rode to the fortress with her trusty stable slave at her side, but Tor was made to wait for her at the fort’s entrance. Though he was from the general’s household, the guards were not about to allow a Briton to wander about unescorted. As well, Governor Paullinus was back and they knew his hatred for all Britons.

Since rules were rules, Diana decided to leave the horses with Tor and proceed on foot. She noticed immediately that the fortress held a lot more men than it had on her previous visit. Paullinus must have returned with his legionaries from Wales. She received so many stares from strange
men that she was relieved when she saw the familiar face of Petrius. He came to her side immediately, his handsome face wreathed in smiles at their chance encounter.

“My brother is a lucky man to inspire such slavish devotion, Diana.”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “Do you know where he is?”

“Extremely busy, I’m afraid. Paullinus is returned with his army and Marcus is at the Valetudinorium with all the wounded legionaries. I shall be your escort in his stead. Have you toured the fort yet?”

Diana realized he was speaking of the hospital. “I’ve been here before, but I didn’t stay long. If Marcus is busy, I had better go.”

“Don’t leave. If Marcus learns I didn’t take you beneath my wing, he will mete out a fine punishment.” Petrius grinned boyishly. “And I’m still in his bad books for arriving drunk at the villa.”

Diana blushed prettily. She didn’t really want to stay, but she didn’t want to cause bad blood between brothers. This brave young man would be leaving to fight in Wales within the week, and she could not bring herself to rebuff him.

“Let me think what would interest you. I live in the officers’ quarters, but they are unremarkable. There is a good view from the turrets of the watchtowers, but that wouldn’t be of much interest to a beautiful female. Have you visited the temple?”

“No, I’ve never seen a Roman temple.”

“You Britons worship Sul, the sun goddess, do you not?”

“Oh no. I am a Christian,” she explained.

Petrius stared. “A Christian?” This was the strange sect of troublemakers whom Nero delighted in persecuting. In Rome it had become the custom to blame everything on the Christians and punish them accordingly. Romans loved to watch the spilling of human blood, so Christian prisoners
were always in demand at the games. Petrius tucked the knowledge away, knowing instinctively that knowledge was power.

“Here in the fortress there is one massive building that houses many temples.” When they entered on the ground floor, there were different doors to choose from. One had the name
JUPITER OPTIMUM MAXIMUS
carved above it and another had
MITHRAS
. A third was inscribed
MARS
, whom Diana knew was the god of war, and the last door was inscribed
FORTUNA
, whom Diana assumed was the goddess of luck and good fortune.

“Marcus worships Jupiter, but most men in the military worship at the altar of Mithras. It is a male cult. Mithras is an unconquered god who represents courage. In legend, Mithras was ordered to catch a primeval bull. From its body spring plants and herbs, from its blood come new forms of life, from its semen comes all procreation.”

He led her through the door marked
MITHRAS
and they began to climb, then they entered the temple and were able to look down upon a massive altar. Below the stone altar was a pit where a few centurion officers had gathered. Petrius pointed to a man who resembled a huge bear and whispered, “That’s Seutonius Paullinus. He must be here to give thanks for his victories over the Celtae.”

A well-muscled, bare-chested youth in a white loincloth walked onto the massive stone altar. He carried a huge iron hammer and a sword. Then suddenly there was a great roar and a pure white bull ran onto the altar, snorting and tossing his head with rage. The young acolyte lifted his heavily muscled arms high and brought down the iron stunning hammer onto the bull’s head. The moment it dropped to its knees, he drew his gladius and plunged it into the bull’s neck, ripping it open. The blood spurted everywhere, then poured down onto the sacrificial worshippers in the pit below, who became drenched in seconds. Diana watched in horror as Paullinus lifted a bowl to catch the bull’s blood
while it was still warm and raise it to his lips. Diana turned and fled blindly through the door.

Petrius was at her side instantly. “What is it?”

“Get me out of here,” she demanded.

He saw that she was white-faced and trembling. The spilling of blood had sexually aroused him and Petrius had hoped that it would have the same effect on Diana. He had taken her there so that they could couple. But now that he saw her vulnerability, he realized his desire to fuck her while she trembled was growing by the minute. He picked her up and carried her through two more doors until they were in the temple of Fortuna.

He set her down beside a pillar and knelt beside her to remove her mantle. He pretended concern. “I should not have taken you to the temple of a god. I should have brought you to the goddess Fortuna. She will give us anything we desire.”

A tiny black lamb came gamboling up to Diana. Its baby horns had been gilded and it wore a garland of flowers about its neck. “Oh, the dear little thing,” she said, reaching out her hands to cradle the adorable baby.

Before she knew what he was about, Petrius ripped open its belly with his knife and filled her hands with the lamb’s entrails while they still pulsed with life.

Diana felt herself going down in a faint, and suddenly she knew that Petrius was about to ravish her.

Diana did not dare to faint. She hung on to consciousness like a drowning woman would cling to straw. She threw the lamb’s bloody entrails into his face, but rather than repel him, blood excited Petrius. He was on top of her in a flash, ripping the silk tunic from her body.

In the end it was the leather pants that saved her. In his struggles to tear them from her, she got her booted foot between his legs and kicked him sharply. Petrius went down, much as the bull had done when stunned by the hammer. The only difference was that Petrius howled in agony.

Diana was up and running immediately. She did not hesitate for one second, not even to look over her shoulder. She was almost crippled by a stitch in her side, and her lungs felt as if they were on fire by the time she reached the guardhouse. The blood of the lamb had been absorbed by her scarlet mantle and so the legionaries at the gate saw only that she was in a great hurry to leave.

Diana was in the saddle before Tor could help her mount.

“Is aught amiss, lady?” he asked in a worried voice.

“Just get me home,” she said.

He saw that she was unwilling or unable to speak further
and assumed that the general had ordered her back to the villa.

When she arrived, Diana went directly to the bath suite to bathe. Kell, seeing her agitation, sent Sylla in to her. The slave found Diana vomiting down the latrine. Diana battled and put on a cream-colored robe made of fine wool, then she climbed the staircase and went directly to her own chamber. She put the heavy wooden bar across the door to assure her privacy and began to pace about in distress.

Diana frantically pushed away all thoughts of what had happened in the temple. It was so disgustingly abhorrent, she couldn’t even bear to think of it. But the more she tried to make her mind go blank, the faster her thoughts crowded in on her. Finally, she sat down and relived every horrifying moment.

She would never forget the metallic smell of blood mingled with incense. The worst moment for her was not when Petrius tried to rape her, but when he slashed the innocent little lamb and inextricably involved her in the sick sacrifice. Her eyes flooded with tears and she began to cry softly.

Diana had no idea how long she cried, but when she looked from her window, darkness had fallen. She washed her face and felt better for having shed the cleansing tears. But underneath, a sadness had pervaded her consciousness that she could not dispel.

It was quite late when Marcus arrived home. He had been at the hospital all afternoon trying to cope with the inordinate number of wounded legionaries Paullinus had brought back to Aquae Sulis to recuperate. He knew that less than half of them would survive. At the end of the day his garments were soiled with blood and other foul matter, so he bathed at the fort before he went home.

Marcus thanked the gods that Diana awaited him. She could dispel the darklings more effectively than any wine or
opiate he’d ever tried. He knew she was more than a lovely female body where he could lose himself. He savored her intelligence and her humor and something else, more difficult to define. She had a sweetness and innocence that was untainted and that made him feel as protective as he was possessive; possibly more protective.

When Diana was not in the atrium to greet him, he was disappointed. He told himself the hour was advanced. He hoped she had waited to dine with him, but he would understand if she had already eaten. Marcus did not go through to the bath as was his custom, but went straight to the triclinium. Only Kell was there to greet him. After a moment’s disappointment, his heart lifted. Diana was awaiting him upstairs. “Kell, have my dinner brought to my sleeping chamber.”

Marcus took the stairs three at a time. When he opened his door and found the chamber empty, his heart sank. Where in Hades was she? There were no slaves about; the hallways were deserted. Marcus strode along to the apricot chamber where Diana used to sleep. The door was closed. When he tried to open it, he found it barred.

“Diana, I’m home,” he called. He could not conceal the irritation he felt at having her door barred against him. When he received no answer, his irritation turned to anger. “Diana!” he said sharply.

“Go away,” she said quietly.

Go away? Am I hearing her correctly?

“Open this door!” he commanded. His anger was turning to fury.
This is what I get for indulging her!
When Marcus heard no movement inside the room, he realized incredibly that she was not going to open, as he’d commanded. In a blazing rage he set his shoulder to the door and crashed against it until the heavy bar on the inside splintered and fell away. The door swung open and Marcus stepped into the room, his black eyes blazing.

When he saw how quiet and pale she was, he knew there was something wrong. His heart constricted with fear
as he rushed to her side and went down on one knee. “Are you ill?” His voice was ragged with emotion.

“I … I was sick, but I’m better now.”

For one split second his heart soared, thinking she was breeding, but then logic told him it was too soon. He reached out tenderly to take her hand.

Diana flinched from him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Don’t touch you?”
He repeated her words in a tone so quietly ominous, it warned her that she was on very dangerous ground. Diana ignored the warning.

“There are too many differences between us,” she cried. “I hate Rome: I abhor everything it stands for! I detest Romans!”

“What maggot is eating your brain? Rome is the center of the world. It stands for excellence in government, learning, culture, and philosophy. And as for Romans, we are not like the ordinary masses, we are patricians! We are the most educated, civilized, courageous, and honorable men who have ever lived.”

Diana recoiled from him. “You are a race of brutal, primitive degenerates.” She had been holding the golden coin in her hand. She thrust it at him. “Take it, it defiles me.”

Marcus ignored the chain and swept her up into his arms. “I will defile you, by the gods I will!”

Diana struggled in vain. His arms were steel bands; his chest like the stone wall of the fortress. The more she tried to resist him, the more his anger and his lust became en-flamed. He threw her down onto the bed and tore open the cream robe. Then he threw off his mantle and lifted his tunic over his head.

Diana’s gaze challenged his as she lay trembling with fury. “If you force me, like a master takes a slave, it will kill my love for you. It will prove you a brutal, primitive degenerate and we shall be everlasting enemies.” Her voice was low and so intense it gave him pause.

Marcus ran his calloused hands through his hair in
complete frustration. “What happened today? What has wrought this change in you? Talk to me, woman!” he thundered.

Diana drew the soft robe about her nakedness and sat up, curling her feet beneath her. Marcus, a tower of virile frustration, loomed at the foot of the bed. She chose her words carefully. “When I came to the fort today, you were busy, so I went into the temple. The brutal pagan sacrifice I saw sickened me.”

Marcus sank down on the foot of the bed with relief. “Is that what this is all about? Diana, you should not have gone there. You are too gentle and tender-hearted to understand these things. Why do you think I’ve never taken you to the temple?”

Diana shook her head. “It’s not just the blood sacrifice of animals. It’s the vast differences between us. I can never be reconciled to the Roman way of life. I can never accept your beliefs and practices.” She hugged herself, her arms crossed in protection. Her palms felt the soft wool of her robe. “The clothing, the food, and the language are small differences, easily overcome. It’s the way you think, your beliefs, your ideals that I’m totally opposed to. You think you rule the world by divine right. Your entire empire is based on power and oppression. Romans are sadistic by nature. The differences between us are too great to overcome.”

“The only difference between us that counts is that I’m a man and you’re a woman! Our bodies fit together so perfectly, we become one when I make love to you. Our differences are gone the moment we are joined.”

“No, Marcus. We set aside our differences so we can indulge our lust. When that is slaked, our differences are still there, larger than life!”

“What I feel for you is
love!”

“Can you honestly say you feel no lust for me?” she demanded.

“Yes. I feel love and lust. A combustible combination.
Most men and women would sell their souls to experience what we have!”

“I fear that is what I have done,” Diana said quietly. “Take this back.” Again she held out the chain.

“Julius Caesar was the
greatest
patrician, statesman, and general who ever lived.”

“Caesar was a conqueror, seizing land that didn’t belong to him and enslaving proud free people by the thousands.”

Reluctantly, Marcus took back the Caesar coin and slipped it over his head. He knew she was accusing him of these things, not Caesar, and it was true.

Marcus lifted his head, proud as an eagle, and with all the courage he possessed, asked, “Do you love me?”

Diana stared at him aghast. An unbearable lump came into her throat and her eyes flooded with unshed tears. She came up onto her knees before him. “Marcus, I love you so much I am heartsore.” Her arms went around his neck, and as he cradled her against him, her tears wet the column of his throat.

“Don’t cry, beloved, I can’t bear it,” he murmured, pressing her heart against his.

In the warm, protective circle of his arms, the horror of her afternoon receded. She would not tell him about Petrius —it would serve no purpose, and in any case, he would be leaving in a few days.

“I don’t care if you are Christian, Druid, Briton, or Celt. To me you are simply Diana—my heart, my life. Does it really matter to you that I am Roman? Can I not just simply be Marcus?”

Before she could answer, they were interrupted by the sound of a soft cough. Looking up, they saw Kell standing in the doorway among the shattered wood of the door. He was carrying a tray of food, and he had a look of cautious relief. No doubt he hadn’t known what to expect after seeing the general’s handiwork.

When Diana saw the food and realized Marcus had not
eaten, she felt guilty. “It’s so late. Please eat your dinner, you must be exhausted.”

Marcus set the tray on the bed. “Share with me,” he tempted her. “My food always tastes so much better when you share it with me.”

Diana nodded and dried her eyes. Marcus scooped her into his lap and fed her all the choicest morsels, between his own mouthfuls. The desire to make love to her was like a torment inside him, but he banked the fires of his passion with an iron will. He had her gentled now and did not want to destroy the fragile bond that he had only just managed to reestablish.

After they had eaten, they talked together quietly. He told her of his day, minimizing the horrendous wounds and the high death toll. She showed him the things she had bought in the shops and he promised to show her how to write with a stylus. Then he tenderly tucked her into bed with a light kiss. “You look pale. Get some sleep, love. I just want to have a word with Kell, then I’m for bed too.”

Marcus had a nagging problem that had just multiplied a hundredfold because of Diana. He sought out Kell and they went into the solarium. Kell poured the general a goblet of wine and Marcus told him to pour one for himself. He indicated that Kell should be seated, but Marcus remained on his feet. He could always think better when he paced.

After he had walked the length of the mosaic tigress three or four times, he said, “I have a problem regarding the feast I throw for the governor and his centurions before they go to fight.”

“It has never been a problem before. As always, I will keep out of the governor’s way.”

“No, Kell, the problem isn’t with you, it’s with Diana.”

“I see.” And Kell did see, clearly. Feast was a euphemism for the Bacchanalia the general threw, which had become a tradition. The centurions and the cohort centurions who had successfully made it back, and the ones who
were about to take their place, joined Seutonius Paullinus in what could only be described as an orgy. They feasted until they disgorged, drank until they spewed, and fucked until they were delirious. “She should be safe enough from the men’s lechery, locked in your chamber. For extra measure you could post guards at the door.”

“It’s not her safety that worries me. I shall always be able to protect her.” Marcus paced across the tigress, then walked around her through the long grass.

Kell hid a smile. The general was skirting the tigress as if it were Diana. The analogy was most apt, for Diana would behave like a tigress if she got wind of the debauchery that occasionally took place in this villa. She didn’t even condone public nudity, so he could only imagine her shock at the multiple copulations, carnality, and perversions practiced by Julia Allegra and her prostitutes when they got together with the Roman legionaries.

Kell was surprised that Marcus Magnus worried about what a female slave thought of him. Was he no longer master in his own house? Had the general handed her his balls along with his heart? “Could you hold the feast at the fort?” he asked tentatively.